Eternal
by Matgen Beurkley
Summary: The Beginning of a Destiny
1. Chapter 1

_It is believed that those who draw forth breath and life, those who refer to themselves as human beings are more than just physical manifestations. Legend speaks of a strange and unique force intwined within both mind and body, never seen, but always valid, always ascendant, and always there: In some languages, both dead and not, it is called _**l'ame, ka, akasha, psyche...soul**_. But regardless of what it is called...it is precious._

_For Within each soul lies a diary of momentum, expectation, and desire that combine to create meaning... _

_And With each meaning...there is purpose_

_with each purpose...there is interaction..._

_with each interaction...there is change..._

_with change...there is born _Causality.

_And combined...they forge _Destiny

_And into this world, there shall be born those rare souls with momentum that astounds creation,_

_Desire that will incite passion,_

_Expectation of nothing less than than the Universe Itself_

_And interaction that will inspire the Soul of the Very Earth Itself._

_These are the Souls who burn so fiercely for something beyond mere grasp...this is the story of such a soul...this is the story of_

**Eternal**

-Scorpious Marse Antares

Involvement I: Clairessence

Chapter One: The Lord's Prayer

Water.

Water has to be the cure. They say it not only cleans the body, but that it also makes renewed the soul. If I can just wash this filth away...I can start over...I can start fresh. I've tried everything else...everything a human being can do to achieve redemption...but this is it...

this is all I have left...

_Flowing through his thought is a scene. His pain is clear as glass, and just as fragile. The moment plays without end._

_Two boys...kissing...fondling...groping...devouring. The young boy whose mind is in question...the force of it...the sensations that flow through him are ethereal...unbridled...addictive_

_His senses spark to ultimate awareness... of "his" cologne..."his" eyes..."his" touch..."his" passion. Of something beyond words and contemplation. They were wrong, traitors to their God...blasphemers to their religion. Every touch of flesh, every taste of salt and mouth felt so natural. But it was wrong... No, beyond wrong. It was abomination...it had to be wrong... To lay with man was sin...to feel this way was sin...he just didn't care. He had had a choice before it even started to resist, to follow the words of God Almighty, and rebuke such foul temptations...but these feelings...these wants...this euphoria... It was as if his heart would no longer be denied._

_"God...Dear Father...Please forgive me..." _

I can't scrub enough, he thought. By this time, he was sitting on the shower's floor, his arms red and covererd in welts...he had tried so hard to scrub the shame off of him...hoping desperately that the water would be his salvation, to clean him of not only dirt and grime...but sin is a permanent stain...nothing but nothing can clean it . And my stubborn mind won't let me forget how for those brief moments, I felt special, wanted, worthy, beautiful...He made me feel, for once...a tear slid down his cheek...human. He shook those thoughts out of his head. He then looked up at the crucifix right above the bathroom mirror with narrowed eyes...he dried off.

He put on his clothes, and headed downstairs. He quickly stopped halfway...but continued again just as suddenly. He rushed down the stairs past buzzing relatives who soon became silent with his appearance.

No matter.

He walked passed them as if they were all non-existent.

"Baby," he heard his Mother, "please tell me what's going on. Sweetie, don't leave it like this.. What happened today...your father...he didn't mean to do what he..." she could barely hold back her tears as she was reminded of the swelling under his left eye. "Baby, let me help you...talk to me...you ain't never kept me out before..." his Mother said.

He stopped her . "Don't worry, Momma. I'll be fine. I just need some time alone." he could barely get the words out himself.

The moment was interrupted by a gruff, menacing voice. "You ain't goin' nowhere."

Matgen turned toward the door and said drily, "go fuck yourself old man."

Matgen heard furniture and dishes clattering and people shuffling. Matgen spun around again to see his father desperately trying to get at his son, being held back by his family members,

"Geoge, baby, please don't!" yelled Matgen's mother.

Matgen could no longer hide his fury. "Just give me an EXCUSE, Old man. You touch me and heaven be my witness, I will make your wife a widow...Just make your move...GIVE ME AN EXCUSE!!"

**"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" **George screamed

Without answering, Matgen ran out the door. He could hear his mother's pleas for him to come back. But as much as it killed him to hear the pain in her voice...all he could do was cry as he ran...

Looking at the crucifix back at home inspired him to come here...to the church he had known his entire life...to confront the God who thought this was a joke. God had to be a sick, practical joker.

"Okay, God...very funny...we all got a big laugh out of this. My father hates me, my siblings think I'm a freak...I'm probably going to lose every friend in the world I've ever had. You pulled the ultimate joke. Ha!...fucking...Ha! Now stop with the jokes. I wanna wake up! Bring me back into a world that makes sense, a world in which I was born normal. No more jokes...change me now."

He looked up at the powerful bronze depiction of Jesus on the Crucifix. But the statue spoke nothing but pure silence. "**I SAID CHANGE ME!!!"** the boy balls his fist and his echoes are so loud the church itself becomes startled with vibration. He falls down to his knees. Make it go away...tears stream down his face. A half an hour passes before he turns to leave, an empty shell. The statue to whom he pleads gives no hint of what His response was...or will possibly be. As Matgen walks across the street. His dulled senses don't notice the sudden appearance of headlights, or the three thousand pound object with four wheels that smashes into him. All he knows is a shock going through him as he flies forth into the air, and lands square on his back. The sound of a screaming woman and a distraught man and a car alarm slowly fade.

_What is this? It's becoming so quiet. It's strange...I...I...feel myself...this makes no sense...I feel myself separating from something. I think it's from my body...I think I'm being taken from the world. Mommy...Daddy...where are you?...I...I...I don't wanna be alone..._

Complete silence and darkness...

Gabriella rocks back and forth, on her knees, humbled before her Almighty God, and before the crucifix and Jesus, to whom her soul owes its' salvation, for He is said to have made it possible for her soul to receive the gift of Salvation.

Heavenly Father, I'm so confused. I know Your All-Powerful Mind has a plan for my baby...and I'm tryin' to have hope...Dear Lord... but my family...she pats her hand on her chest as she rocks...shaking her head at the wound so deeply carved into her essence...my family is falling apart at the seams, and I wanna scream out Your Name. Oh, Heavenly Father, Please, I beg You, please, wherever my baby is, protect him Dear Lord. Give him life, give him strength...and give to him the Mercy that only an Almighty God of Your Power can give him...Hallelujah, Dear Jesus, Hallelujah...Hear my plea, Oh, Lord.

Tears stream down her face as she looks up to the ceiling, still rocking back and forth on her knees as she prays the prayer she has known ever since she drew her first breath

_Our Father, Who art in heaven..._

Alicia, call an ambulance...Oh, dear God there's blood everywhere!!!!...

_Hallow be Thy Name..._

Yes...yes...This is Alicia Banks...me and my husband, we accidentally hit a young boy

_Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven_

Ummm...Uhhh...we're on Camblewood Road and 21st Avenue...oh God hurry, there's so much blood

_Give us this day our daily bread..._

Everybody stand back, we're the medical team...just stand back

_And forgive us our trespasses..._

Oh, Shaun, hold me...

_As we forgive those who trespassed against us_

It's okay baby, we're gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be just fine.

_Lead us not into temptation..._

Get him into the ambulance

_But deliver us from evil..._

We're losing him

_For Thine is the Kingdom..._

We're losing him!

_The Power and Glory..._

Oh, shit!

_Forever and Ever..._

He's flatlining

_Amen._

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

_**NEXT: CHAPTER 2: SEE YOU YESTERDAY**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Eternal**

Involvement One: Clairessence

Chapter 2:See You Yesterday

11:31pm Friday, August 10, 2007

He stopped his pen. There was a sense of absolution. Of triumph over some dismal defeat. He couldn't lay his finger on it, but yet, he felt as if through all his damage and all his pain, heaved upon him with merciless infliction, there were answers in the silence that surrounded him.

He shook his head.

Who was he kidding?

The Earth was hell, and everyone within this hell were its' denizens, full of lustful ambitions and unbridled mischief of the most flawed and fatal kind. The only redemption he found within this cold and bitter world was in his pen and paper. For with these two implements, he was no longer subject to an unpredictable, merciless God, he _was _God, unsurpassed by any man or beast of his creation. It brought tears to his eyes. But what emotions ignited these tears were complicated to explain. Indeed, his life in and of itself was hard to understand...at least in his mind.

He grew up in humble beginnings, the child of a seamstress and a technician. He and his family's life was one of absolute uncertainty. He lived in a town where the economy was as unpredictable as weather. As such, his familial life was just the same. At times all his mother could do was cry, and at other times, all his father could do was be submerged by his grief and failure to provide for the family that he loved beyond all morality, who came second only to his God. But living with failure was all right.

Nothing a bottle of vodka and Schnoz couldn't fix.

As for his father and mother's reverence to this...God.

What God?

The writer's thoughts turned from melancholy to pure bitterness. In the beginning, his father and mother were loving people, devoted to their work and their children.

But they were fools.

What logical being would have trust in a God who would sit idly by as your savings got dried up because you got laid off more than once? What sensible being would praise a God who would sit silent when there was barely enough food to satiate a dormouse, let alone three growing children and their two parents. What approachable human worth an ounce of dignity would even recognize a God who would sit by and watch a fourteen-year-old boy being raped by a gym teacher...by a friend...by an uncle.

No.

_This _human being learned the hard way that he could only depend upon himself. After all, when he finally came out to his family, even _they_ betrayed his trust and love: they deserted him. It seems the only thing in his world that did not desert him was his own shadow.

But no more.

If desertion was to be his unwanted companion, he would use it to his advantage.

With all the things that he had seen and gone through...hope and faith in love was beneath him. How many fools he saw, how many of his associates would speak about love as if it were the Holy Grail.

Absurd.

Love was for amateurs. He didn't bring to life three best-selling novels by invoking love in his heart. He didn't win award after award through love. He certainly as hell didn't choose his bedmates based on love.

No. These activities all had one purpose in common. They were all done with cold, hard ambition;

He sat down...he wrote some words. His words were felt as great works, he was rewarded. If he got horny, he found him someone hot, or at least good-looking enough...and fucked them.

Love and devotion had nothing to do with it...

Until Lewis.

Until Lewis, he felt that emotive passions were empty words brought forth by empty hearts.

But Lewis, a publisher...a savant...a friend... gave him meaning. The writer had hated everything about himself and others. But Lewis, with sincerest understanding, showed him the beauty that lay betwixt the world, if you could only look. Lewis even found beauty in his lover's name...

The writer always hated his name...but as stated, Lewis showed him the beauty in not just his name, but in his entire essence. Lewis possessed alchemy; he could turn bleakness and blandness into art and life... into vivid resonance

Soon, he noticed a smile here, a chuckle there, a sense of peace everywhere.

He sold more best-sellers about love and devotion than all of his other dark works. And why not. He had something...someone...that inspired him, that finally gave him satisfaction and pleasure and power...inner power...fulfillment

Someone who promised to be his only love...Someone who would never let him leave their side...

Never...

EVER.

Soon, Lewis turned obsessive. The writer was uneased by it, but he shrugged it off.

Love was suppose to be like this.

And when the harsh, foul words started. The name-calling the writer endured.

Love...was suppose to be...like this.

And when the beatings started and the choking and the death threats and the virtual house arrest

Love was...love was...

What could he say? He didn't know what love was supposed to be anymore. He just knew fear...and fractured ribs...and broken bones...and hospital stays. The writer was afraid everyday that he would do something wrong enough to cost him his life at Lewis's hands.

An improperly cooked meal.

Hanging out with colleagues.

Being away from home for more than five minutes.

Breathing.

He turned his head to look at his suitcases.

He had to leave.

It was too much.

His love for Lewis was now replaced by fear...and he had to get away from it. It was instinctive.

_Click._

He turned around to the sound behind him, and noticed Lewis...readying the chamber of a gun.

The potential victim began to cry.

He begged Lewis to understand. To let him live. He promised he would unpack his bags, and never attempt to leave his lover again.

But the look in the eyes of a madman is hardly a logical one.

It's not a sane one.

It is the look of a being so insecure, so desperate, that they will use violence of any kind to keep what they have to them and them alone.

And to a maniacal beast like Lewis...His lover's promises never to leave him again were not enough, he just couldn't take that chance...

Three loud explosions ruptured the silence and serenity of a suburban neighborhood. It was the sound of sudden thunder...but if one were to look up at the sky on that solemn evening...they would notice something peculiar...

There wasn't a cloud in sight.

The man fell backwards.

Time itself surrendered.

The last thoughts that roamed in his fading mind were somber ones...

_I've been betrayed my entire life by those who said they loved me._

_Forsaken by even my own blood...by my lover...And now, even my own life...has abandoned me._

He hit the ground with a loud thud.

Lewis refused to move...even after the police sirens...even after they handcuffed him.

His insane mutters were unintelligible to all but himself...

"No one can have him...no one...I promised to be your only love...I kept my word..."

The writer of both love and tragedy was no more.

The police entered the house once filled with antiques and rich adoration...now all that is left is the eerie scent of ill omens.

Antonio Vanazaxa poked William Petterling in the ribs as they looked at the lifeless body.

"Hey," he whispered, "isn't that the fag romance novelist guy."

They both chuckled.

"Cigarettes."

They both turned around at the source of the voice.

That source was Lieutenant Algaedann MacHallahrenn.

Antonio looked a little baffled. He raised an eyebrow.

"Cigarettes...boss I'm not so sure I know what you..."

"Fag, Vanazaxa. You said fag. Fag can mean cigarette in British slang . Now, note that I said that's what it _can _mean. Now, there are _other _meanings to that word. Some which I don't find too...how do you say..." his celestial blue eyes turned to arctic ice "...appealing."

Vanazaxa gulped.

"But me knowing that you are an _adult_...who has great respect for the dead...and who has great respect for both his dignity and his job...and would certainly like to keep both...I know that as strange a time it would be to mention such a thing...you were saying fag in reference to cigarettes...am I right to make that assumption, Vanazaxa?"

Algaedann's gaze possessed the fatal stare of a basilisk.

Obviously, it would behoove Vanazaxa to give the correct answer

"Um...yeah, boss. Cigs. That's what I meant."

"Good!" was the icy reply. Algaedann's eyes suddenly became more human and less insidious.

"So, what's the update?" he asked

Petterling handed Algaeddann a letter with some blood on it.

Algaeddann put on some gloves. Standard procedure.

"We found this clutched in his left hand."

Algaedann read it as the empty vessel of the victim was covered in a body bag, destined to join the other lifeless shells in the docile morgue.

The letter was as this...

_Death is not a docile creature...nor is it ever a merciful being...It collects its' bounty as a heartless hunter would:_

_without pity, without shame, and certainly without hesitation. But what if there was a chance to gain the upperhand. To elude the omniscient Thanatos. What if there were a second chance to dare against death. I envy those who would try...Those with the willpower to deny death in total and utter defiance..._

Matgen shot up.

_What the hell?_

Where was he?

Why the hell was he in the hospital.

He could hear beeping. He turned to the origin of the sound.

He was bound to those machines that test your heart rhythm...or whatever the fuck the piece of shit does.

He didn't know, he didn't care.

He just wanted out of there. He unbound himself from the machine and got up.

He felt weird. Something wasn't quite right.

_Probably the medication they must've given me for...goddamn...what the hell am I in here for?!_

Whatever happened to him obviously affected his memory.

Again, couldn't care less right at the moment.

All he wanted to do was ask for some information...some way to get him checked on so he could leave. He saw an approaching nurse.

"Excuse me...nurse...um, I was wondering if..." the nurse walked right passed him.

_Oooookaaay...rude much?_

He saw a clerk's desk and a woman behind it. He went up to the desk to ask her a few questions. Maybe she knew about the concept of manners.

"Umm...Hi madam...my name is Matgen Beurkley...I was wondering if..." she turned away without a single word.

_Fucking bitch-ass cur. What the fuck got wedged between your pantyhose this morning._

He asked person after person, doctor after doctor, clerk after clerk, nurse after nurse. No one gave him any notice. Until...

"Can I help you?" a woman with red hair and blue eyes asked him. Her eyes were looking right at him.

Before he could open his mouth, a young man behind him answered.

"...Yes, I'm looking for Deborah Honnitch." The red-haired woman gave the man assistance.

_Fucking bitch! _He was standing right in front of her and she completely and deliberately looked passed him.

_Fine, then I'll just get information myself...Okay, today is..._

he spotted a calendar: Wednesday, August 8, 2007

_And the time is..._

He spotted a clock: 2:33...now 2:34am

Suddenly, he spotted his parents and family members. They were rushing through the hospital like obscene madmen. He ran in the opposite direction...wanting to hide from them.

When he was out of their sights...he thought to himself.

_They're probably assuming I got hurt or something...or the hospital must have called them...but who cares...I don't want them..._he began to cry..._and they don't need me. _

He saw a door which led to staircases. He flung open the door and ran up the stairs. He found yet another door three staircases up...and he flung that one open. It was the top of the building. But Matgen was so angry and so flustered that he didn't really notice...until he noticed instantly that his feet were no longer touching ground...he had nearly ran off the building...

_Oh, great, I'm about to die at the one place that I'm suppose to be safe._

Matgen tried to regain his balance...but it was a losing battle.

But just before he completely lost it, someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

Shivering and whimpering, Matgen turned around to thank his savior.

It was a man. He had the most intriguing presence. Black hair and grey eyes. He had on a black tie and a grey suit.

Matgen hugged him. Tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

The man chuckled. "It's okay child. You're all right. There's nothing to be frightened of anymore."

Matgen's voice quivered as tears streamed down his face. "Wh-who are you?"

The man chuckled again.

"Oh, dear boy."

His reply then lowered into a husky whisper.

"I'm the one who's about to take your life..."

**To Be Continued**

**Next**

**Chapter 3: Trial Thanatos**


	3. Chapter 3

Eternal

Involvement I: Clairessence

Chapter Three: Trial Thanatos

You'd think that the first thing a person would do is immediately run in the opposite direction of a just-announced threat.

Scream...

Wail...

Fight perhaps...

When one's life is threatened, that seems like the most logical thing to do.

However, having someone announce to you that they are about to end your existence in such a nonchalant way can be so shocking that logic doesn't necessarily kick in instantly...at least for Matgen, anyway

He slowly let the man go, and slightly backed up.

"You want to...you're going to...what?"

"Oh, dear boy, you could barely say that sentence. Oh, dear. The shock of it must be getting to you. It seems to happen to most humans...I wonder why? After all, death is really nothing to fear. It is inevitable. What's the point of fearing the inevitable?"

_Are you fucking insane?, _Matgen thought, _This son-of-a-bitch wants to kill me and he's talking about it like we're going on a freakin' picnic. _It was then that Matgen's logic kicked in

"HELP!! SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE...I NEED HELP...HE'S TRYING TO HURT ME...SOMEBODY!"

"Screaming won't help, poor child. No one can even see you, let alone hear you."

Matgen turned around and ran towards the doors from which he came...only to literally run into his killer.

"You can't escape me, poor child. Of all the people you've ever known, I'm the only one who can truly say that I am irresistible."

Matgen balled up his fist to hit his attacker...only to have his fist go right through the man's chest.

Matgen fell back in fear...

The attacker looked down at his chest and made an intrigued face.

"Hmm...That's a first."

"What...who are you?"

"Simply put...I am Finality...lacking the black robe and the scythe, of course. I'm not fond of sharp objects, and black _**really**_ isn't my color. But that's the least of your worries, isn't it? You wish to know why I want to take your life. That's simple enough to answer. I want to take your life...No, correction..._need _to take your life...because your life is done."

"What the hell are you talking about."

The man looked a little baffled.

"Dear child, getting hit by a 3,000 pound object warrants some sort of consequence, don't you think?"

Then Matgen remembered. Being hit by a car...feeling the jolt of being thrown. That feeling...that awful feeling of..

"Finality?" The boy could barely get the sentence out.

Matgen began shaking...so much so that he couldn't get up. He started crying...hard.

"I don't wanna die...I...**I DON'T WANNA DIE!!!!!**"

Without saying another word, the man closed his eyes.

Matgen felt some sort of weird pull...almost like apportation...and instantly found himself no longer on the roof, but in a hospital room...with his mother and father...sleeping close to the nearly lifeless body...of their son!

Matgen began to panic.

"**You can't take me!!**"

"Enough..."

"**I REFUSE TO DIE LIKE THIS!!!..."**

**"**_Enough..."_

"Mommy...Mommy...Mommy please...it's me!! Don't you hear me...it's your...

"_ENOUGH!!!"_

Matgen fell backwards at the sound of such a roar.

He gazed into the eyes of this man.

However, even when the man yelled, it wasn't the roar of anger...but a roar of force...and that force carried into his next words, and each and every word was to make this desperate mortal understand.

Understand that his fate was unescapable.

Suddenly, a harsh wind began blowing...It was strong and violent...but it didn't affect anyone other than Matgen and his Death bringer.

The man's eyes began to flash, and a ghostly white aura began to outline his presence. The serene voice he once possessed was gone. It was replaced with an absolute frankness. And with each word he walked closer to Matgen, his new aura growing ever more vigorous...equaling the ferocity of the unearthly gale.

"This is your fate! Death is everyone's fate! It is necessity. It is apart of life because it is the end of it!"

"I won't let you take me...**I won't**!"

"Let me make this clear to you."

He came closer

I am Finality."

Closer.

"I am the end made manifest! Omega Personified! Everyone you have ever known! Every life and every breath, the universe itself"

Closer

"...all of them, will answer to _**me! You **_will answer to _**me!**_"

He was so close.

Matgen could feel his energy.

He could feel his soul...his own soul...starting to...

"**NO!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!! SOMEONE, PLEASE!!!...SOMEONE!!!!...DADDY!!!!"**

George bolted up from his slumber.

He could've sworn...

He looked toward his son...his beautiful son.

Matgen won't respond.

His logic told him so.

But his heart...his heart didn't care about logic.

He crept closer to his son.

"Baby?...son?...did you say something...I thought I heard you..." he began to choke up..and then sobbed. "I thought I heard you say something." He wiped his eyes.

"C'mon now. Don't be this way. Don't leave. Yo' mama need you, now. I need you."

George looked at his son as he remembered...

_It was certainly not an ordinary day; It was the Beurkley family reunion. And as big as that family was, there was going to be a lot of cooking that needed to be done. His southern roots helped both him and his wife with that. Collared greens, yams, ham, baked potatoes, chitlin's, boiled waterbread, black eyed peas, chicken and watermelon and pineapple, and so many other things...it was the kind of heaven he knew as a child. Gabriella, too. All the kids' had been helping...but Matgen._

_Matgen looked...starbound._

_He really wasn't concentratin' on nothin' of too much use. It seemed like he had something on his mind._

_He had been acting strange almost all that month, and Gabriella became concerned. The whole family was._

_Matgen was a smiler. God knows that. He found joy and light even in the darkest hours and he could find healing in even the vilest poisons. Everybody loved him. _

_His family and friends. _

_The church. _

_Hell, even strangers. But that light seemed gone. He seemed so unsure of himself, so empty inside. When Ethaniel asked him what it would take to get him out of his funk, he responded in a whisper, "death..." the entire family stopped cold. The look in his eyes was equal to his words. And then he continued, "apart of me needs to die in order to survive, I guess. I know it sounds strange...it sounds strange to me...I don't know why I thought of it...just forget I said anything...get me the broom so I can sweep." His brother was going to ask him again, but Gabriella motioned for him to be still._

_A couple hours later, Matgen had seemed a little more chipper...until that boy came along. George should've smelled trouble on him._

_Matgen's reaction to him seemed strange, almost as if he was both glad to see him and terrified to see him at the same time. By that time the entire family had forgotten the ordeal and were enjoying themselves...except George._

_He had seen Matgen and that boy going off into the garage...both of them looking uneasy...His paternal instincts kicked in. But what he saw next...what those two were...how he got of control...and what he did in his rage...to his own son..."_

George's thoughts were interrupted by Matgen's vital machine going berserk.

"No...dear God...Jesus...No..."

Gabriella shot up and her eyes widened in horror.

Doctors and nurses rushed in with strange devices.

The main doctor spoke, "I want them out of here!"

"But my baby..." Gabriella protested. George burst into tears...Words had no meaning

"Cecilia, if they're not outta here in thirty seconds, it's your job."

The nurse lost her initial hesitation and moved the parents out.

"But my baby...LET ME STAY WITH MY BABY!!!"

Matgen could both see and feel that his physical life was diminishing...and this knowledge didn't make him more fearful...it made him angry.

Exceedingly angry.

NO ONE was going to tell him when his time was and was not.

_**NO ONE.**_

When he looked back up at the grey-suited man, there was an almost literal fire in his eyes. Suddenly, his aura appeared, and began to glow hot and plasma-like, and it soon engulfed him. A strange symbol appeared on his head.

Matgen now felt powerful, boundless...ethereal.

The grey-suited man stopped in his tracks, but his eyes failed to give a distinct feeling towards this display as he shielded himself from the evergrowing light of the aura.

"You wanna take me!...BITCH! You ain't earned the **RIGHT ****to take me!!****"**

Matgen then unleashed a force so powerful that if felt by normal beings would have been instantly fatal...

Gabriella clutched her chest.

George spontaneously gasped.

The entire family shot up.

Gabriella was overwhelmed with feeling.

"Lord Jesus..." she whispered, awed by whatever it was she just experienced.

Matgen suddenly found himself in a place full of mysterious energies. He looked under his feet to find transluscent floors and transparent skies.

_What...in...the...worrrrld? Am I on E._

As he stared around himself at this...whatever it was...he heard a voice that surrounded him on all sides...

_It is believed that those who draw forth breath and life, those who refer to themselves as human beings are more than just physical manifestations. Legend speaks of a strange and unique force intwined within both mind and body, never seen, but always valid, always ascendant, and always there: In some languages, both dead and not, it is called _**l'ame, ka, akasha, psyche...soul**_. But regardless of what it is called...it is precious._

_For Within each soul lies a diary of momentum, expectation, and desire that combine to create meaning... _

_And With each meaning...there is purpose_

_with each purpose...there is interaction..._

_with each interaction...there is change..._

_with change...there is born _Causality.

_And combined...they forge _Destiny

_And into this world, there shall be born those rare souls with momentum that astounds creation,_

_Desire that will incite passion,_

_Expectation of nothing less than than the Universe Itself_

_And interaction that will inspire the Soul of the Very Earth Itself._

_These are the Souls who burn so fiercely for something beyond mere grasp...this is the story of such a soul...this is the story of_

**Eternal**

Matgen turned around to witness an orb of light floating above, around, and beneath him. It spoke again,

"This is _your _time Matgen. Your destiny. Within you lies the power to affect the world itself. The time is right for you to accept what you were fated to become. A being of immense power. A Guardian and Protector of Love, Light and Darkness."

You'd think that the first thing a person would do immediately is have a profound reaction to the situation.

Scream...

Wail...

Faint perhaps...

When one's life is revealed in such an epiphany, that seems like the most logical thing to do.

However, having someone announce to you that they are about to show you the meaning of your existence in such a nonchalant way can be so shocking that logic doesn't necessarily kick in instantly...at least not for Matgen, anyway...

Come again?

_**To Be Continued**_

_**Next**_

_**Chapter 4: The Sun's Attribute**_


End file.
